


Believing me

by LeDiz



Series: The 48: Dreamworks [5]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, Older Jamie, avoidance tactics, first believer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 21:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7656799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeDiz/pseuds/LeDiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie grew up, and Jack made an assumption. Jack may have been wrong, but he's still bracing for impact anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Believing me

The sound of voices woke him up, but all he could see was grey. He blinked a couple of times, half-listening to the sounds outside as he tried to figure out how deeply he’d buried himself this time.

The fact it was grey, not black, was a good sign. He grunted and pushed his staff up his body, letting it push through the snow and make a small hole he could look through. Not that deep, then.

He peeked out of his new window and raised his eyebrows when he saw two figures walking down the bank opposite. Burgess was a fair way from his pond – easy walking distance, but considering one of the figures looked about eight, he sincerely doubted they were old enough to want the kind of privacy the pond provided.

Then they came close enough for him to recognise them, and he sighed. Jamie and Sophie. All of the kids he still thought of as His Believers, despite most of them not being that anymore, occasionally came down to the pond, drawn by half-forgotten memories of bravery and fun. Jack almost buried himself again, not wanting to have to deal with the emotions seeing a fifteen year old Jamie brought up, but a glimpse of ice-skates made him stop, and then look at the ice over his pond.

They weren’t seriously going to ice-skate on _that_ , were they?

No, his brain thoughtfully reminded him, they’re going to swim in that. And then die.

“Idiot,” he muttered, not entirely sure who he was talking to, and poked out his staff again, reaching farther until it could tap the ice and thicken it. Because of the lazy way he was doing it, it took a while to finish – right up until Jamie had stepped onto the ice to test it.

He saw the boy smile at something and look around, but Jack was in no mood to investigate. He had no intentions of getting walked through by his first believer. He was going back to sleep.

“Okay, Soph, we’re all good. Let me get on my skates and then we can start.”

Jack glared at his window, debating the value of being comfortable and _here first_ over the pain of listening to kids that had once believed in him. A few years ago, he could have gone out and played with them. Could have helped Sophie skate. Could have pushed Jamie in the snow and teased him about trying to skate too soon.

Stupid North with his stupid statements about stupid belief systems. Stupid time. Stupid growing up.

Despite his intentions to the contrary, his traitorous body wriggled under the snow until he was only just buried, watching as Sophie opened a bag and pulled out what looked like a particularly chunky portable speaker set. She set it up with an player and turned it on while Jamie finished strapping on his boots.

“So much for going back to sleep,” Jack muttered as the sounds of some obnoxious teeny-bopper hip-hop singer whined about how no girls would ever look at him twice. It wasn’t that loud, but any excuse to complain at this point would do.

His forced annoyance had to give way, however, as the kids got onto the ice and Sophie began stretching like a professional skater, while Jamie continued to turn his head as if looking for something. What _were_ they doing?

“First things first, Soph,” Jamie said finally. “Is this really the type of music you want? It’s not exactly going to make things, um… simple.”

“I don’t know. I just brought all my music,” she said, flinging both hands out in a broad shrug. “I figured we could just try everything and see how we go.”

“Well, okay… then I guess we should just see how you can move to each song.”

Jack furrowed his brow, completely nonplussed, especially when Sophie began skating in a… really weird way.

Now, over the centuries, Jack had seen a lot of different kinds of movement. Different kinds of skating, skiing, even walking. People changed over time, and the way they did even the most simple things changed too. He’d always been pretty good at adapting, too – he spoke like a modern teenager, kept up with the way kids moved and thought… dancing had always been something that intrigued him, particularly since the nineteen twenties, and swing. Oh, man, he’d loved swing dancing. With no partner, he’d been a little limited for a long time, but Elvis had changed everything. And then the eighties came, and street style was a beautiful thing.

Watching Sophie, he had a feeling she was trying to emulate it. But there was a problem, because there were two kinds of dancing in the world – people who danced for themselves, and people who danced for others. Sophie was quite clearly trying to do the latter. Or at least, what an eighteen year old would do when dancing for others. On skates. In a parka.

He crushed both hands over his mouth, because laughing would both be cruel and, if she still believed, give away his position.

But when she finally overbalanced, scrabbled on the ice for a few seconds, and then fell over with a loud thump, he had to snort. He didn’t notice Jamie look around, but instead pushed himself up out of the snow to balance on his toes, resting his chin in his palm with a broad grin. “What are you doing, Sophie?”

She squeaked as she twisted around, but it was Jamie to answer, putting his hands on his hips with a laugh. “What’s she doing? What’re _you_ doing? Hiding in a snowdrift!”

Jack’s smile vanished as he stared, and fought the urge to look behind him.

It – he – no. No, it wasn’t possible. Jamie was fifteen. Bunny had told him, quite firmly, on that dark and horrible night so many years ago, that this didn’t happen.

But…

He swallowed and forced a smile back, gripping his staff tightly to keep himself from breaking. “ _I_ was sleeping. You’re the ones who snuck up on me.”

“Yeah, and the ice just happened to thicken itself,” he deadpanned, and Jack refused to crack. He was calm. He was cool. Cool as a cucumber. So cool he was glacial. Believers? He didn’t need many. He had The Believer. Of course Jamie would still believe. Of course. No, he was not going to hyperventilate, because Jack Frost was too cool for that. This was the sort of thing he’d always known would happen. Right? Right. Right. Oh, mother Mary save his soul, he was starting to think about miracles. Distractions are awesome things.

“So, Sophie, learning how to jitterbug?” he asked tightly. “Kind of hard to do on your own.”

“What’s a jitterbug?” she asked, and he laughed.

“Nothing, I’m showing my age. So what’s up?”

Jamie started to skate toward him, obviously trying for casual but failing to hide his grin. “Sophie’s taking this ice skating class after school, and they’ve got this challenge thing going on.”

“It’s ice dancing!” she explained brightly. “The person who can come up with the best dance wins the lead in the recital!”

Jack smirked. “Sounds pretty cool. But didn’t you think it might be easier to come up with the dance _off_ the ice, first?”

 “That’s what all the other kids are doing,” she said. “But I think it’s dumb. You don’t move the same on the ice as you do on the ground.”

“True, true,” he said, and jumped up into the wind, floating over Jamie’s head to drop down in the centre of the lake. “Always said you were the switched on sort, little lady. How about you let a real ice dancer show you how it’s done?”

“Really?”

Jack wasn’t looking, but he could hear Jamie’s smirk. “See, Soph, I told you he’d know how to dance.”

“And what gave you that idea?” he asked, but his playful glare was more of a hopeful glance and he knew it.

Jamie managed to hide the fact he noticed pretty quickly, all things considered. “You don’t walk, Jack Frost. You prance.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like a pony.”

That was just enough to stab through Jack’s happy, bewildered haze, and he twisted his wrist to call on a snowball that became five as it launched for Jamie’s face. The teenager yelped and had to drop to one knee to dodge them, only to overbalance and end up flat on his face on the ice, so Jack smirked and went back to the giggling Sophie.

“Lesson one: moving on the ice is a dance, so you don’t need to try so hard,” he said, and extended a gentleman’s hand toward her. “A waltz, m’lady?”

She giggled again but took him up on the offer, taking both his hand and staff and letting him guide her in a simple square. After they’d gone around a few times, he abruptly released her hand and spun her around his staff instead, then picked up the pace once she grabbed him again.

“The important thing is keeping smooth. You can move fast, but you have to do what your momentum wants you to do – if it’s a fight between you and the ice, I can tell you right now, you aren’t going to win,” he said, spinning them both in a tight circle before letting her go, his own momentum pushing him away, and held his staff over his head like a toreador would a cape. “And always remember – your weight is in your middle, but your grip is in your feet. That’s why you fell over before; too much attention to your hips and not enough balance in your feet. Keep ’em wide and keep ’em strong, they’ll keep you up.”

Focussing on Sophie, with Jamie soon coming up to help her move and dance, it was almost easy to forget what Bunny had told him all those years ago. What everyone had told him, and prepared him for, and why even as his heart leapt for joy, he was bracing himself to find out it was all wrong.

It was just over an hour later that Jamie noticed Sophie starting to shiver, and Jack packed up the music to give to him. “Better get her home.”

“Yeah… wanna walk us back?”

He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. He did it anyway, strolling alongside Jamie and listening as Sophie waxed lyrical on her after school classes. He had enough self-control to say no when Jamie asked him to come inside, but he nearly broke when Jamie gave him a long, measuring look.

“What?” he asked, trying to laugh. “I’m a pretty cool guy, Jamie; winter spirits don’t do indoors.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, and pointed at him. “Meet me at the back door in five minutes, okay?”

He knew he shouldn’t, and he could hear Bunny lecturing him already, and Tooth’s worried admonishment, but ignored them both to linger on the railing of the back porch, swinging his feet and determinedly not thinking about all the reasons fifteen year olds didn’t believe in fairytales.

After six minutes and twenty-seven seconds, Jamie hitched himself up on the railing beside him, facing the other way, though he leaned back to offer Jack a steaming mug. “I didn’t know if you actually drink hot chocolate.”

He looked at it, then up at Jamie. Rather than respond, he just took the mug by the handle and set it aside. “Something you wanted, kiddo?”

“You haven’t asked me yet.”

“What?”

“Why I still believe.”

He forced a laugh, and was proud of how natural it sounded. He was good at this. “Like I’d think you wouldn’t? Jamie, you were the last believer – my first real believer. I’m not giving up on you that easy!”

“So how come you looked like you’d seen a ghost when I talked to you?” he asked, and Jack stopped, mid-grin, lowering his eyes back to his feet. When he didn’t answer, Jamie took a sip of his own hot chocolate, obviously steeling himself, before pointing out, “You haven’t been around the last couple of years. You couldn’t blame me if I stopped.”

Jack scowled and kicked his feet against the bannisters. “Not to shoot you down, but I kinda don’t want to talk about this.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he said, and thought he would leave it at that. It seemed like a good answer. Only then his mouth kept moving. “Because you’re gonna tell me about how this isn’t really happening, and I should probably wake up soon. Or it is happening, and the next thing you’re gonna tell me is that you don’t need those anti-hallucinogens anyway, what do the doctors know. Or… or it is, and you’re fine, and I’m gonna come back next year, and be all expectant and you’re gonna walk right through me and none of it’s gonna matter.” His body betrayed him again, pressing his lips together in a brittle smile and looking up at Jamie when all he wanted to do was leave. “I don’t really do emotions so good, Jamie. I’d rather avoid them, if it’s all the same to you.”

Jamie just stared at him for a few seconds, then nodded. “Well, I’m feeling way too cold for this to be a dream. I’m not on drugs, though I do admit I kinda learned not to tell anyone I still believe in Santa and the Easter Bunny a few years back, and I don’t know what’s gonna happen next year, but I don’t think not believing is on the charts.”

Jack snorted, but Jamie nudged him pointedly. “I’m serious. And it’s not like I’m dreaming about fairytales, here.”

“Uh, Jamie, hate to tell you this, buddy, but –”

“You’re not a fairytale.” Jamie almost snapped, making Jack look around again. He had to bite back a smile at the indignant look on the kid’s face, which made it morph into a pout. Or the closest a proud fifteen year old could come to one. “I believe in _legends_.”

Jack couldn’t stop his grin this time. “You know that’s the same thing, right?”

“No. It’s not,” he said irritably. “Fairytales are cutesy little happy stories. You’re little, but you’re not cute.”

He blinked and cocked his head, not sure whether he was amused or offended. “I’ll have you know I’m considered adorable by certain members of the female population.”

“They’re too young to know better,” Jamie said, patting his shoulder with patronising grace. Jack laughed, settling on mock offence, and Jamie nodded wisely. “You’re just scrawny, that’s all.”

“Right, so, apparently you just wanted me here to insult me,” he said with a grin. “You believe in me so you have someone to bully and get away with it, don’t you!”

Apparently against his own will, Jamie smirked right back, but when he answered, he was serious again. “You’re not really happy, either, are you?”

He didn’t miss a beat, this time, because he knew how to answer this. “Jamie, come on, I’m the guardian of _fun_. Angst isn’t my thing.”

“You said emotions weren’t your thing,” he pointed out. “Happy’s an emotion.”

“Bullying and psychology. You’re growing up to be a real Sigmund Freud, aren’t you? Just so we’re clear, as far as I’m aware, I got along with my mother just fine and the staff is a symbol of protection, not a euphemism.”

“Jack, I’m not trying to get on your case, I’m explaining why I believe in you,” he said impatiently.

“You believe in me because you think I have issues?”

“Yes! No! Wait, stop!” he cried, and Jack snickered but gestured for him to continue. Despite the topic, this was almost as fun as baiting Bunny.

Jamie took a long breath, then a longer sip of hot chocolate, and then another breath, before trying again. “If you were just stories, you’d be simpler. You’d just be a guy who shows up in the winter months, sprinkles a little snow around, giggles when someone falls over and then leaves,” he said, but when he caught sight of Jack opening his mouth, he hurried on. “You do all that stuff, but you do more, too. Like today, with Sophie. You play with kids, you talk to us. And you get upset at the idea we might not… I mean, for Christ’s sake, Jack, you get offended! You even winced just now when I said ‘Christ’! You have thoughts, feelings, rivalries with the Easter bunny!  You and the rest of the guardians – you’re too complicated to be just stories.”

Jack stared at him blankly for a few seconds, then leaned forward. “I winced?”

“Yeah…” Jamie stared right back, then smirked. “Jesus. On a cracker.”

Jack blinked. “What does that –”

“Goddamn.”

He winced. “Ja-”

“Damn it all to hell.”

He cringed and held up a hand. “Stop it. Just – just stop it.”

Jamie snickered. “You’re religious, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m a pagan spirit, that’d be just asking for trouble,” he said, then heard himself and looked sideways. “Knowing that’s probably not helping my argument, huh?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Ugh. I think I might have been puritan once?” he guessed.

Jamie smiled into his hot chocolate. “Stories would only believe what I believe, and since I don’t have a problem with saying ‘Jesus H Christ on a cracker’—”

“I’m gonna freeze your mouth shut!”

“—it must be a thing you have, which means you’re your own person, and not a story.”

“I’m not Christian,” he said sulkily, but Jamie’s smile didn’t let up.

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“The point is we’re having this discussion, which is so not something I would expect to have with Jack Frost, the – the – winter shepherd, or whatever you are.” He nodded wisely again, as if he’d just made some kind of irrefutable argument. “You may be a myth, but you’re also real, and so I’m not going to stop believing in you. Even if you do disappear for years at a time. Friends do that sometimes, too.”

Jack tried to scowl at him, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. It was something to do with Jamie having a vaguely valid point (fifteen year olds weren’t supposed to be logical), something to do with the whole religious thing, and something to do with being called Jamie calling him complicated. He felt like he should be offended. Or laughing. Or something other than impressed that Jamie had managed to use reason to explain his existence when he’d seen a thousand other people use it to explain him _away_.

“If I do come back next year and you walk through me, I’m allowed to laugh,” he said finally. “Loudly. And dump an avalanche on your head.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

And the really sad thing, that Jack knew was stupid and setting himself up for a really big fall later, was that he believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> The 48 are a collection of unfinished fics saved to my hard drive. I think this was less unfinished and more so... overdone. So I left it. Now posted here in case anyone's interested.


End file.
